


s2 E6 the Lame Duck Congress

by ghostlyandcoastly, JDPostEpisodeChallenge



Series: Josh & Donna Post Episode Challenge [17]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlyandcoastly/pseuds/ghostlyandcoastly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDPostEpisodeChallenge/pseuds/JDPostEpisodeChallenge
Summary: A painful realization leads to some new understanding.





	s2 E6 the Lame Duck Congress

“Has he considered it?” Okay. So here’s the thing. I know the answer to this.

“No.”

“Why not?” I also know the answer to this. 

“Why should he?” Josh also knows this. It’s our little game. We ask and pester each other into thinking about things. That’s a broad way to put it but it’s important to the work Josh does. The man is running a country after all. Well, with a little help from the rest of us. Like The President.

“If he thinks he has a better chance of ratifying the test ban treaty with this congress than the new one-”

“He doesn’t.” The man is bad letting me finish my sentences. I’m great at not letting him get away with that.

“But if Martin Mitchell-”

“Mitchell’s not a factor.” Arrogance, thy name is Joshua. Fine, new topic.

“Josh, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration-”

“No.” Rude. But I also knew he was going to say this.

“OSHA-”

“ _ How _ do you change subject so fast?”

“Josh-” Gee, I don’t know; how do you misdirect so quickly?

“I mean it, how do you go from a nuclear test ban treaty to OSHA?”

“‘Cause I’m me.” I say adorably and succinctly so he can’t interrupt me again. I don’t miss the grin that gets from him but I’m not going to acknowledge that. Because I have a bone to pick with him. Well, more like a nerve to pinch with him.

“Josh, do you know how many people acquire carpal tunnel syndrome?”

“It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that I do not.”

“600,000 Americans a year. Do you have any idea how painful it is?” Josh is rolling his eyes and now I’m just getting a little pissed off.

“In the scheme of things, who really cares-” Excuse me! I care! Me! Your girlfriend assistant extraordinaire! I grab his ear painfully.

“ _ Do you have any idea how painful it is?” _

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Now he’s listening and acting like a good boy. All I had to do was turn on his listening ear. I go on to lecture him about all the suffering involved in carpal tunnel syndrome. He is his snarky little self but I’ll get through to him. I’m a persistent assistant.

It’s almost an hour later when I see him next and can bug him about carpal tunnel and OSHA. My back was turned and I think he was trying to sneak by me. Cute. What I know that he doesn’t is that I have a  _ Josh sense. _ It happened during those months of recovery.

Josh is a terrible patient. He won’t tell you if something is wrong until it gets bad. Because of this, I had to be more tuned into Josh’s physical self than most people. And that’s how my sixth sense was born.

Of course, my number of senses wasn’t the only thing that changed during Josh’s recovery. Our relationship status did. We were always  _ friends _ , more than boss and assistant. But towards the end of his recovery, when he was able to move around and do most things by himself, we kissed. Again. And again. And again. And more. And more. And more. And I just sort of didn’t leave his apartment. I was packing the night before he was going to work and he came into the guest room and looked hesitant. Then it seems he made up his mind because he just reached for my hand and pulled me into his room, just muttering  _ don’t do that. Stay. _

And that’s the extent of the “talk” we’ve had. Some days I find it sweet and romantic that we just sort of melded together, that our relationship is so simple that it’s natural. Other days, I freak myself out. Or Josh freaks me out. What if I’ve read it all wrong? What if this is just sex? You know, plus cohabitation and cooking meals together and working together and generally not being separated for long periods of time.

But today isn’t necessarily one of those days that I’ve worked myself into a spiral about our relationship. Today I’m freaking out because I have to have some kind of talk with him tonight about  _ this. _ Because my lease is up soon and my landlord needs to know if I’m resigning. It seems ridiculous to be paying for an apartment I’m rarely in but I don’t want to make any assumptions.

Josh and I get cut off by Charlie and Vasili Konanov. Josh runs over to deal with that and talk to Leo when I get an idea. Leo! I need to talk to Leo about OSHA if Josh is going to be so flippant! I know I originally only took hold of the idea to get my mind off of the whole  _ hey-what-are-we-where-are-we-going _ talk with Josh but now I’ve got it in between my teeth.

Leo blows me off too with a “type slower.” Hm. And to think, I had tried to compliment the man on his suit! I mean, yeah. Okay. It’s a nice suit. Leo always has nice suits. I do make sure to share Leo’s response with Margaret and the rest of the assistants. I’m just trying to save all of our wrists! And maybe, just maybe, get under Josh’s skin a little.

Later, I’m walking by Leo’s office when I see Josh looking adorably ruffled up.

“Aye, Norma Rae. Get in here.” I don’t know if Josh even realizes he’s doing some kind of warped New Jersey accent. And there’s something seriously wrong with me because I find it sort of sexy. 

Josh and Leo tell me about Congress and the White House being exempt. Josh and I may have been standing closer than we should in our boss’ office but he’s the one doing the whole leaning back and making flirty eyes with me! I manage to remain professional in front of Leo in spite of my annoyance (as well as being turned on) and then make my exit, reminding Josh about his 4pm meeting. Josh follows me out though.

“I’ve got a job for you.”

“Get past it.” Oh, we’ll be coming back to this, mister.

“What do you need?” I snap a little.

“I need Vasili Konanov to meet with someone of absolutely no consequence. You’re my girl.” Not for long, if you keep sweet talking me like that! Jackass.

“What the hell are you-” Oh, we’re back to interrupting me!

“I need you to meet with Vasili Konanov.” I bet he’s wishing that he said that first instead of the other thing. He is so not getting any tonight.

“Why?” 

“So the president can drop in and interrupt you.”

“Are you kidding me?” He’s using me as a political pawn. My boyfriend (or however we’re going to label whatever it is tonight) is really not good at this.

“Nope.” He looks over at me but quickly looks away as he realizes I’m actually pissed.

“So I’m the beard.” There’s a right answer here, Josh.

“Yes.” Buzzer noise.

“I’m being used?” There’s a right answer here too. I also didn’t really mean for this one to slip through, my genuine insecurity about us peeking through. Josh is oblivious.

“Yes.”

“As a dupe.” Why am I even trying?

“Yes.”

“How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“How do you usually feel about that?” A part of me knows that this is Josh bantering, just being funny. But there’s a larger part of that cringes as he makes this statement.

“Josh…”

“Donna!” Great, that’s his  _ let’s get to work _ voice. 

“My value here is that I have no value.”

“You have enormous value to me. You have  _ no _ value to eastern Europe.” Okay, he gets it right one out of five times. Enormous value? At work? Or in general? I can’t exactly ask him that now. I force myself to be satisfied with that one sentence and switch back into fun work Donna. We talk about the plight of the worker and me taking advantage of the opportunity to talk to a drunk, non-English speaking diplomat. He moves his hand to my waist, turning me a little.

“But set up the meeting and knock ‘em dead.” As he leaves me side, he hits my lower back (okay, it was my ass) lightly. Well, then. Maybe he will get some tonight.

I’m a weak woman, what can I say?

********   
  
  


I go to my apartment first that night. Josh has dinner with a representative from Michigan tonight so he wouldn’t be back at his place for another hour or so anyways. After my meeting with Konanov, I tried to work a little longer but I couldn’t focus on much. I just keep hearing Josh that I’m someone of no consequence, agreeing that I’m being used, and asking how I usually feel about being a dupe.

And all those thoughts were still popping up as I was chopping a tomato. My mom and dad had gotten me kitchen stuff for Christmas last year which including a new knife set. So the knife was sharp. And my dumb ass wasn’t paying enough attention and now my pointer finger and palm are bleeding.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I yelp as I hop around trying to grab something to stop the bleeding. I try for the paper towels but can’t get them to tear off the roll so I elect to ruin one of my perfectly good dish towels. Just as I wrap it around, my phone starts ringing. Dammit! I look over and can see that the caller I.D. says Josh. I let it go to voicemail because hello, I’m in pain and bleeding quite a bit.

I run it under water and that hurts so bad that I’m cursing again. I pull it out and apply the clean end of the dish towel to it as it’s still bleeding. Josh has called three times. I pick it up as he calls a fourth.

“Hello?” I grit through my teeth.

“Hey, where are you? I just got home.”

“I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused. I can’t have this conversation right now. There’s a period of silence.

“Look, can I call you back in a little while?”

“What’s wrong?” He croaks, sounding very concerned.

“I, uh, cut my hand.”

“What!?”

“It’s fine. Or I think it is. It’s not a big deal. I just need to get off the phone so I can stop it from bleeding.”

“I’m coming over and taking you to the ER.”

“Josh! I’m fine.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No but-”

“I’ll be there in seven minutes.” He hangs up. Greaaat. I don’t want to go sit in some waiting room for them to just slap me with a band aid and an expensive bill. I’m also not ready to talk to Josh right now.

It’s at least a twelve minute drive from his place so I don’t see how he could make it in seven but six minutes later, he’s knocking on my door.

“It’s unlocked! Come in.” I call out to him. I throw the dirty towel in the trash so he won’t freak out about the amount of blood and grab another one.

“Okay, we’ll talk about  _ that _ another time.” He says referencing my door being unlocked. I roll my eyes at him. “Let me see.” He walks up to me but I step away. 

“Josh, you know how you are with this stuff.” I caution. Josh is extremely squeamish.

“It’s fine.” He insists and reaches gently for my hand. He pales as he left the towel a bit. He presses it gently back into place. “Okay, keep pressure on it. Let’s go.”

“Josh, I’m not going to the ER.”

“Yeah, you are. Come on.” He moves his hand to my waist and starts to usher me out the door. He grabs my purse on the table and locks the door behind us as I protest.

“Josh! I can’t afford an unnecessary trip to the ER!”

“Josh, this is ridiculous.”

“Josh.”

He helps me into his car and I’m surprised at the level of care he’s exhibiting. As we’re driving, I’m watching him. Trying to figure him out. His jaw is tensed and he’s driving fast. But he’s also not looking at me.

“Josh?”

“Are you keeping pressure on it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He says, his voice rough.

“What’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re upset.”

“We’ll talk after.”

“Josh.”

“Donna!”

“We’re probably going to have to wait in there for a while anyways.”

“No.” He says. And then I realize this is the wrong way for the hospital. Oh my god. He’s taking me to The White House.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Yes, I would.”

“JoSHUA Lyman!”

“Donnatella!”

I sit there, upset but knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop him. He’s stubborn as hell. All I can do is hope no one will abide by his ridiculous request. He takes out his phone and dials. I have an idea as to who it is.

“Hey, are you still there?... Okay, perfect… Donna sliced open her hand and refuses to go to the ER, is the First Lady there?” I’m  _ going _ to kill him. “Great, be there in three.”

“Josh, this is insane.”

“You should have called me in the first place.”

“I slipped and cut my finger a bit! Why would I call my boss about that?” Okay, probably not the smartest moment to insist on the  _ what are we  _ conversation. His eyes snap over to me and I can’t read him. He turns back to the road, accelerating a bit.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean…” I don’t know how to finish that. What do I say? I didn’t mean that you’re not also my boyfriend? I didn’t mean to sound like that’s all there is to us? Well, I have a lot of questions in my head right now and they make those responses seem uncalled for.

“Yep.” He says in a clipped tone. Josh isn’t usually one for brevity. I just sit there wondering what it means until we pull up at The White House. It’s mostly stopped bleeding. Charlie is waiting for us outside and he opens the door for me.

“Hey, Donna, you alright?”   
“Yeah, sorry about this. He’s being ridiculous.”

“Seriously! Look at that towel!” Josh argues as he comes to my side. I resist the urge to say,  _ you should see the other one. _ Charlie guides us through the lobby and over to the Residence.

“Donnatella! What happened?” The President greets us as we come in.

“Just Josh overreacting.” I smile at President Bartlet.

“Ah, well. Us, men are prone to do that, you know.” He smiles and walks alongside our little group as we enter the study where the First Lady has her medical bag laid out.

“Hi, there, Donna. Get into a knife fight, did you?” Dr. Bartlet asks.

“Yeah, the tomato won.” I joke. She gestures for me to sit as she takes my hand. Charlie and the President say goodbye and exit.

As Dr. Bartlet cleans the wound and stops the bleeding completely, I try not to look at Josh. 

“You cut yourself pretty deep for just a tomato. Were you mad at someone?” Dr. Bartlet asks, not being subtle about looking over at Josh. I wince a little.

“Just distracted.” I respond. I’m not  _ mad _ at Josh. I’m just feeling anxious and sad.

Dr. Bartlet starts her first stitch and I look over at Josh. He’s quite pale as he watches the needle pierce my skin.

“Josh, you can wait outside.” I tell him gently. He looks into my eyes and then nods and steps out. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“So Donna… What’s up with you and Josh?”

I freeze up at the First Lady’s question. Josh and I have been keeping  _ whatever this is _ a secret and although, we haven’t had a conversation about this to affirm this plan, I’m pretty sure venting about my relationship problems to the First Lady is not an option at this point.

“Nothing. We’re fine.” She gives me a look but drops it. She makes conversation about other things as she finishes up and I’m glad for it. Silence would let me start up those same thoughts that led to me cutting my hand.

“Alright! You’re all good.” Dr. Bartlet announces. “And, Donna, I know you can’t say anything but we all saw you when Josh was in surgery. I know how much you care for him. But I also know how much he cares for you.” I gulp, not sure what to say. “Josh! You can stop pacing and come take Donna home now.” Dr. Bartlet calls out to him. He’s in here a second later, still looking tense but a little relieved.

We say our goodbyes and thanks to Dr. Bartlet and leave, waving goodbye to Charlie as pass him on our way out. And then we’re silent. Josh’s hand is still on my lower back as usual but not as close as is normal.

I don’t think either one of us wants to start this conversation.

We actually pull out onto the street before either one of us says anything and when we do, it’s at the same time.

“Josh I-”

“Look, Donna-”

We both look over at each other with stricken expressions before breaking into laughter for a few seconds. I’m still smiling as I watch his expression grow serious again.

“Josh, what’s wrong?” I coax again.

“I didn’t realize you still had your apartment.” He admits after hesitating for a few seconds. And he shrugs.

“I was going to talk to you about that tonight actually.” I tell him softly, feeling bad. “That’s why I was distracted when I was cutting the tomato.”

“Why didn’t you eat dinner at our-” He cuts himself off. “-my place?”

“Oh. Well, I thought you weren’t going to be back until later…”

“Do you not go there if I’m not?” He asks, scrunching his brow.

“Um, no.” I admit, not sure where our footing is right now.

“So when I’ve been away or pulling all-nighters, you sleep at your place.”

“I sleep at my old apartment, yes.”

“And this is something you wanted to talk about tonight?”

“Yeah…” I stop talking as we pull up to his apartment. I’m grateful for the minute or so I get to collect my thoughts as we transition from the car to inside. He grabs us both beers from the fridge.

“You were saying?” He says. He looks worried. Josh keeps looking around his place as if trying to figure out something.

“My lease is up soon. My landlord needs to know if I’m resigning.” I tell him quietly. He takes a sip of his beer and starts pacing again. I sit down on one of the barstools at his counter.

“Are you?” He asks finally.

“Um… I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why is this even a decision!?” He explodes, like he’s been holding this question back. And now he’s off to the races, pacing again. “I thought you stopped your lease! Or subleased it or something! But this whole time, you’ve been what?  _ Hiding _ your apartment? As what? A back up? In case this doesn’t work out!?”

“No! I wasn’t  _ hiding _ it! I don’t even know what  _ this _ is!” I exclaim, feeling put on the spot.

“What are you talking about!? You- you… I asked you to move in! Meanwhile, half of your stuff is still at your place. Apparently you keep it fully stocked with food and everything!”

“Well, one, no I do not. I picked up groceries on the way home. And second! You did  _ not _ ask me to move in. I think I would have remembered that.”

“Yes, I did! The night you started packing! In November!”

“Josh, all you said was ‘stay,’ pulled me into your room and then we had sex and fell asleep.” My mind feels like someone has it on one finger, spinning it like a basketball trick.

“Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic way to ask you but you know I’m bad at this stuff! I don’t get why…” He trails off. Josh’s expression changes from being generally pissed off to looking horrified and a little sad. “You know this isn’t just sex, right?” Josh’s voice is rough and low and it makes my stomach do a gymnastic floor routine.

“I don’t know.” I admit sadly. I’m looking at the floor, feeling insecure when I feel his arms wrap around me.

“Donna, I don’t know what’s going on in your head. But I know that this isn’t  _ just _ sex to me. I’m all in, Donnatella.” I pull away from him to look at his face. He wipes at the tears that had slipped out

“I just… we never talked…” I try to explain. He kisses me after I trail off. It’s a soft kiss, not one that’s meant to go anywhere but here.

“I’m in love with you.” He tells me, sounding as sure of himself as he is about domestic policy. I blink at him in surprise. Then I realize he’s searching my face for a response.

“I love you too.” I say quickly, standing up and pulling him to me. We hug each other close, like we can’t quite get near enough. I don’t know why but I’m still crying. He’s kissing my hair and saying things that make me feel warm inside.

“I love you. I’m sorry you had to doubt that. Just to be clear, move in with me. For real. Don’t sign the lease again.”

“Of course.” I pull back now just enough to kiss him. This one is not like the other. It’s not soft. It’s hungry and we end up in the bedroom missing a few clothing items before we know it. He tosses me on the bed but doesn’t follow like usual. I look at him quizzically.

“You’re beautiful.” He leans over me and kisses me again before pulling back up. This kiss is gentle but it’s still needy. “It’s not just sex. But the sex is  _ really good. _ ” He smiles at me before leaping onto the bed.

It doesn’t take long before we’re naked. Things are getting quite heavy as I reach down and grab him.

“Hey, Josh?” I smile sweetly.

“Yeah?” He smiles arrogantly as he groans a little as I stroke him with the exact amount of pressure he likes. (The Josh sense comes in handy during sex).

“You know I couldn’t do this if I had carpal tunnel…” I whisper in my sexy voice into his ear, nipping at his neck. He groans, half in being turned on and half in exasperation.

“Type slower.” He growls out before flipping me onto my back and making my forget all about OSHA.

****

 

**Author's Note:**

> AN thanks for reading! It’s kind of a silly one but eh… pls review i love them feed my narcissism also follow me on twitter if you want I tweet a lot about josh and donna @aimeeintweets


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